The Crayak Chronicles
by AngmarBucket
Summary: What he was, what he is: he makes it known to one seemingly insignificant creature.
1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

My name is Crayak.

Of course, that is my game name. I have no other name.

As of late, I have been known to visit one of my favorites, in his dreams and quieter moments just when his eyes begin to fall, and his consciousness begins to drift. He had never trusted my presence, but now, after his fall, he finds himself turning to what he would call superstition and primitive thinking.

_I would do anything_, he says in his ultrasonic squeaks, apparently to no one. His voice is humbling even to him: it is no longer the booming voice most have know him to have. _I would give anything to run again._

He details a long list of things he would give up. He would gladly trade all hope of rank and power if it meant having an Andalite body one more time. He would live in servility and mundanity on the Andalite world itself, to have that body again instead of his own. He would even be a Gedd again, if it meant being free. His wants are contradictory because he is desperate, and no longer has the privilege to pick and choose in his current station.

It's delicious to listen to. Once, the pool was his home. But the cruelty of his species' existence is that as they seek to advance themselves, they lose themselves. They are a self-loathing people. And he hates his true form most of all.

I reach out to him as he wishes fervently for freedom, more plaintively and loudly than he's ever wished before. He calls for freedom as one who is truly condemned. He longs for the impossible.

And then the impossible comes. I speak to him.

_I hear you, fallen star. Do you remember me?_

His little body jerks. He wonders if he's finally gone insane, as the great voice speaking to him out of the darkness rattles him and his cage. He sends a few bursts of echolocation into the water but finds nothing but the walls. No one is there. He panics further. He knows he heard a voice.

_You are not insane_, I said. _You know my voice. I have spoken to you many times before._

He recalls, vaguely at first, the times he's heard me in the past. He begins to believe. Or perhaps, after all this time, he's simply desperate to speak to anyone, real or imagined. _You were in my dreams. In…that nightmare, once…_ he began hesitantly.

_I was. And I am here now. Do you truly mean what you say, little Yeerk?_ I asked. _Would you truly give up the Kandrona itself to infest an Andalite again? Or would you, if I transformed you, live the rest of your life as an Andalite peasant: never to command again, never to set foot on a new, peaceful world awaiting conquest? Could you submit to anything but your own desires? I don't think you could._

_I could. I would_! he insisted. _If you are what I've dreamed you to be, you know I mean that! You know I would be content with just that._

_Really_? I said._ I _do_ know you. And you could never be content with just that. Yeerks are greedy by nature, but yours is greed and hunger unchecked. You are a black hole of desire. You've never denied yourself anything._

_Please_, he begged. He sensed, from his time with Alloran, from his knowledge of Andalite culture, that I was, perhaps, a fabled Ellimist or something of the kind. How wrong he was! Of course, even if I were an Ellimist, he would still be foolish to attempt a bargain with me. _I will do anything. If you don't believe I'm capable of those things, I can do other things. Anything. I'll kill, I'll debase myself-_

_Don't make promises you will come to regret. You see, I have a vision for you. One day, you may walk again. You may slay again. Stay strong, little Yeerk, and you will have your liberation. Until then, dream of the things I give you to dream about. Because one day you will have to make a choice._

_When will my liberation come?_ he asks.

_Just dream, and your chance will be soon._

I lie and I don't lie. He will wait a long time, but for me it'll be no time at all. I have made my concessions with my rival to buy that play. It cost me entire worlds, entire game boards; so many playthings are gone now. But this one will give me a thousandfold more. I have already decided he will.

I am not sentimental, but I do love a comeback! Revenge is something I've perfected. And payback is glorious when I orchestrate it. I always grow it from one insignificant little seed into a great, inescapable lerdethak that reaches out and consumes all. He will be no different.

He squeaks to me, _Who are you? Are you an Ellimist? I deserve to know!_

I laugh at him. He flees to the corner of his prison. I don't hold back my contempt.

_Oh no_, I say. _If I were an Ellimist, you would have gotten your freedom sooner. But I will train you to suffer, more than you already have, so that when you are free, you will spread your suffering wherever you go. You will conquer worlds with what you have learned in this box._

_But,_ I say, _since you are so bold to ask, I will show you who I am. Or at least, I will show you some of what I am. _

I won't show him everything. I don't want to kill him; merely to educate him.

He reaches toward me, terrified yet unable to withdraw completely from the power that dwarfs him.

Yes, this is why I do not believe his promises of change. Power attracts him too strongly. He would never give it up, no matter what he says. Any deal he made he would be unable to keep. I know him, because that too is a part of me.

Because we are alike, I show him myself: what I was. What I became. How I still exist. It's like a flood that washes him away into an abyss of memories. For me it is but a second of a life. Yet for him, he's lost in millennia and world within worlds.

He sees me. He burns under my eye. And he trembles.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER ONE

I climbed the spire to the highest entrance. My hooks dug into the hard, uneven surface of the rock, and the weight on my back pulled at me terribly. I wanted nothing more than to stop and recover but the Hesk spurred me on. The Hesk Imperator was crueler today than most days-its sonic blasts to the sensitive air pouches behind my helm almost caused me to lose my grip. It was disorienting and my exoskeleton rattled under its precise attack on me. I moved faster, though only by a few [inches]. At last, pained and exhausted, quivering and barely holding on, I reached the entrance at the top and scuttled inside. Already hills of unprocessed mineralite had been lain before the Supreme Imperator of the Fifth Mineralite district. He yanked my contribution off my back. With a dizzy little bow I left quickly, this time climbing downward, as my fellow diggers passed me to deliver their own cargo. I was a little ahead of them this work cycle and this encouraged me to continue on. I raced back to the ground level. It would take an extra [hour], due to my overall speed, but once I reached the bottom I could rest for a few [minutes]. That was all I needed. On average I delivered an extra half of _siik_ of mineralite to the Imperator of my district every moon cycle. Currently I had a negative 1500 _siik_ on my ledger. Most of the Rask in my hive had at least 1700 _siiik,_ if that. That was what I told myself when the Imperators were unnecessarily harsh.

I thought, _Soon, very soon, you will be in the Median, your debt will be repaid, and you will be able to lounge and eat as much as you want._ I'd heard those in the Median work only a quarter of the hours that we Base Rask do-literally, only four hours a day on average!

Honestly, though I kept myself going with plans for the future, it was at times a little intimidating to think about. As much as I yearned for freedom and maturity, I was frightened of those things. As a Base Rask, there was a certain comfortability in knowing what was expected of me, and in having no pressure to choose how to spend one's time. I always knew what I would do every day. What did a Median or an actual Upper Rask do when they ran out of work?

I had worked a long time, since my second moon cycle after growing from my grub form. Life as a Base Rask had been exceptionally horrifying at first. I'd gone from a grub without worry, or even complex and conscious thought, to a painful transition to mid-adulthood. My legs and wings and protective helm had been painful to grow, and even then my wings were still too weak to fly, as it is with the Base Rask. And no sooner had I grown than I was sent to work, with Imperators carefully monitoring my every move. But I had adapted quickly. It helped that I was slightly bigger and faster than most and could therefore endure more. Even so, most Base Rask are still sore after their growth cycle. It was hard to work even as I learned to move and dig. It took a long time to heal, as I was given little rest.

I'd heard, on a few occasions, some rumor from the Upper Rask, who claimed that Base Rask were incompetent, and that those who did the digging were the most wretched of them all. This was untrue, generally speaking. We worked very hard; so hard, with so little rest, that sometimes we admittedly didn't always clean the mineralite as much as we should have, or we splintered it in places when we collected it. A slight dip in quality is simply the cost of a mass-produced food supply, and nothing can be done about that. I'd gotten very good at carefully but quickly digging up our beloved mineralite, but even I still broke or fractured one every planet's turn. It cost me half a _siik _each fracture and a whole _siik _each break, unfortunately, but not so much that I'd fallen behind my personal schedule. Yet the Upper Rask complained.

I did the calculations in my head as I returned to the digging, and estimated that I was doing exceptionally well this moon cycle. If I kept this steady pace, even with a few fractures I'd have a slight increase in production. Not enough to get me to the Median any faster, but enough to allow me a slightly longer rest period each day. Every second counts for a debtor. Even our rest and play are carefully rationed, if we want to get to the Median before our fiftieth revolution, or Sesk. And at my rate, I could get there by my forty-eighth, if I continued to increase my production each half-year.

I finally reached the warm ground and found my designated hole for the day. It was quickly becoming a tunnel, of course. I dug quickly but carefully through the hard sediment and located more mineralite after only a few [minutes]. I placed it on my back and continued to dig. In an [hour] I was getting heavier. Only my natural secretions kept so much mineralite to my back. All the while I sensed the Imperators around me, hovering. They did the same with the other Base Rask around me. Occasionally I felt a jolt of pain as the Imperators encouraged my pace, but it was not as intense a feeling as when a Base Rask gets tired and starts to slow down deliberately, making the Imperators actually annoyed. A quick sonic jab kept me alert and prevented me from falling behind. I'd learned to be gratefu to them-if I ever lost my vigilance my production would suffer. The Imperators were very good at keeping us all motivated, and never let us forget our goals. We Base Rask were lazy at times and we'd never escape our debt if not for them.

Eventually I finished collecting and I made the climb again. There were two Imperators following me as well as the other Base Rask climbing alongside me, while a few more chased down those on their return trip. I moved as quickly as I could without potentially hurting myself or my cargo, but they still hectored me and pushed me on. I deposited my contribution, then climbed down again. I admit, I was starting to lag by this point. But at least a rest and refueling period waited for me at the bottom.

I could eat up to half a _siik_ a day if I wanted to keep my work and my ledger on schedule. Some Base Rask were in the habit of consuming a quarter of a _siik_ a day, to avoid more debt, but their worked always suffered for it so they broke even anyway, or worse, fell behind. I used to make the same mistake. Now I ate heartily and accepted my additional daily debt for what it was. A Base Rask that surrenders is a Base Rask that plunders, as the old saying goes.

Two Imperators always guarded the casks of cleaned mineralite, which filtered back down to us after it was processed and distributed to the ruling Hesk, the Upper Rask, and then the Median. We got what was left. I approached them and hummed, _I request one half of a _siik, _please_, and it was given to me. I ate slowly. I had one half of an [hour] to myself, and I wasn't going to exert myself in any way. My mouth parts held the mineralite as I ate; my legs I folded beneath me.

As I rested, Dmr, Dmr Sixth more accurately, approached me. I tried to ignore him but he folded up beside me with his own mineralite.

_Hello_, he trilled. I felt his contentedness vibrate the air and his anticipation flooded my mind.

_What is wrong with you?_ I returned. I spoke mostly via brainwaves. I tried to shake off his vibrational frequency. _You are spilling your affectations everywhere._

_I can't help it_._ I just heard the Lords are coming tomorrow._

_The Guardians?_

_Yes. They are returning far ahead of schedule._

I suddenly became a hypocrite-I felt a very great surge of anticipation myself. I would have been reprimanded if I weren't a Base Rask and anyone cared.

The Guardians came ever two planetary revolutions to visit us. They had been friends of the Eian (both Hesk and Rask) for generations times generations. We had almost died as a species before their interference. Little was known beyond our planet, but the Guardians kept us safe and educated us. Every two revolutions, upon their return, all worked stopped for a whole day, and there was no class between anyone (theoretically, of course).

Yet they had already come last revolution. I couldn't fathom why they would return so soon.

_Is something wrong?_ I asked. The Guardians were the noble protectors of our planet and the surrounding planet. They were the benevolent tyranny that had established order on not just our planet, but also our moon. And they had done the same for the other surrounding systems around ours.

He said, _I overheard one Imperator say to another that the wars were going badly in one sector. Another moon was lost. But the Imperator also said that they were coming to encourage us. They may be coming every revolution from now on._

_That's interesting, _I said. _I wonder how we'll get any work done with them showing up all the time._

_Don't be blasphemous! _Dmr said.

I reigned in the thought. The Guardians were, compared to the us, infallible. The idea of a Guardian making a mistake or doing us harm was a completely alien thought.

If the Guardians were coming, that meant more than just a day free of work and class-it meant a day of eating, of singing, of meeting with Hesk and Rask from other hives. The Guardians had decreed long ago that their coming was a day of celebration. We held a festival, the only time when composure was allowed to slip and our more instinctive feelings were given freer reign (what remained, of course). Supposedly some Hesk were known to dance in the air or on the spires, but I'd never personally witnessed such a thing.

And of course, there was the Benevolence, the offerings, the judgements, and the Remissions. It was a terrible, wonderful time. Fear was as prevalent as celebration during the festival. Many prisoners were executed or released, or punished in terrible ways.

Dmr said what I only thought to myself: _I wonder who will be chosen for the Remission? Will it still be one from each hive? How will we work at out current pace if we lose seven more workers so quickly?_

_Now who's being doubtful?_ I said. _I'm sure it will all be evened out. The Guardians often adjust our operations to account for various factors. _

I hoped they would. Because if they were coming, I could be chosen for the Remission. And if I wasn't chosen this time, then I had literally only one revolution to wait for the next. And the next!

Remissions are salvation to a Base Rask. One from each hive is chosen by the Guardians, who examine and then choose the Base Rasks, calculated from impossible to define characteristics and accomplishments. But the choice is also dependent on the mysterious and nebulous ways of the Guardians. One cannot simply earn Remission. Something like grace is given, something we do not understand. Often it seems the laziest and dullest of Base Rask are chosen (this is very frustrating). The ways of the Guardians are not the ways of the the Hesk, but the Hesk know the Guardians are beyond question. They have often tried to inquire about this strange process of selection, but the Guardians are not compelled to answer anything. And they don't.

So, as far as we could understand it, literally anyone could be chosen and their debt erased. Literally anyone can, at the word of the Guardians, could go to the Median, to freedom, to civilization, to adulthood, and all the things that such an elevation brings.

I did not want to allow myself to become too hopeful, for that is not the way of the Eian, but in a way hope is all a Base Rask has.

_Tomorrow,_ I thought; _by this time tomorrow,_ _I could be free_.

CHAPTER TWO

I was asleep when the guardians arrived, packed in with a hundred other Base Rask in one of the


	3. Chapter 3

The Guardians were the center of our mythology, but our mythology was not merely a series of stories, or collected tales of higher truths; they were all also true.

It helped that our "gods" were alive and well.

The story went like this: a long time ago, almost before records, we were a simpler people. In those days we were more innocent; so innocent that we could not protect ourselves from what our scientists called the Anomaly.

The Anomaly made no sense to us. It consumed everything even though it couldn't be seen or even detected at first. It spread throughout our sector of space. It infected many moons and smaller planets. The scientists could not understand it, for it seemed alive, yet it also had no physical presence: only when it infected a celestial body did we know of its existence. And we knew only because of the strange planetary sounds the scientists recorded.

Despite our isolation on our planet, we had often listened to the music of the stars. Each planet has its own frequencies, its own lovely hum, its own song to sing, and this interested us for thousands of years, given our own capacity for song. But when the anomaly began to touch the surrounding planets and moons, the songs changed. The planets began to sing a new song, and it was one that betrayed a sudden intelligence-the patterns were pronounced and deliberate, and we began to learn its meanings, to hear its warnings and learn what it would do before it acted. When the action came, the language was very much confirmed.

Over time, the Eian noticed a pattern: the moons, planets, the smaller asteroids and even a comet passing nearby began to transmit different frequencies. And It was all happening in a series of concentric circles around us. Based on this pattern, our planet would be consumed as well.

It was then that the Lords came for us. They were massive creatures, and they spoke only in an echo of words in a language we did not know. Yet they communicated with us, and our brilliant scientists struggled to commune with them. We constructed a new language to speak to each other.

These Lords told us that our planet was now under their rule, as we had proven helpless to prevent its acquisition by the Anomaly, which they called, in plural, the Dark Stars. But, the said, if we allowed them to protect us, we would never lose our planet to the Dark Stars' influence. We had no choice but, after a long series of debates amongst our Hives, to acquiesce, and our royal families had to sacrifice a large part of their control to the Guardians. But the Guardians did save us. We made them kings, even when they were away, and they could dictate to us from afar if they so chose. Often, though, things were left in control of each Hive's Sire and mates.

In the early time of our annexation, we helped the Guardians, with the new knowledge they gave us, to destroy the Dark Stars' hold on our sector. This meant the loss of certain planets and other infected celestial bodies. It was a catastrophic time: the annals of our history proclaimed the devastation in great detail, and our planet still felt the echoes of the past even thousands of revolutions later, as debris still rained down upon us in stray asteroid showers and other space fragments. But we endured and flourished, and under the Guardian's influence our society grew and our knowledge increased. We became the rulers of our sector, even as the Guardians ruled us. They told us they wanted a universe free from the Darkness, in which all species would thrive, and whom they would monitor to ensure order was the driving force of all sapient life. To this end we labored, those above us working to raise our already mighty species to true galactic prominence. The Guardians chose us to be their special race: the race above all races. It was decided we were the ones who would take their place when their own species fell, as all species must. And when we were the benevolent ones, the protectors, we would raise up another species to make great, and to train in the ways we had been trained.

It was a hard burden to bear, to one day inherit the stars themselves, but already the Guardians had taken many of us, certain specially chosen agents, with them on their journeys to eradicate the Anomaly and show us the larger universe. These selections were often random; one day an Eian would be at work on-planet, the next he or she would be summoned to the Hesk High Council and then sent away, often never heard from again. Occasionally one would return, but it was rare. They spoke little to the common Rask about their time away.

Now, for the arrival of the Guardians, we labored harder than ever; the spires were filled with food to sustain us while they were present, for none could work when the Guardians arrived and no one wanted to go even the least bit hungry or share. The heat lamps were powered and vents in the earth were closed to deny warmth to our ever-growing grubs in their nursery spires; if they hatched too soon, they would starve us. Our time of celebration would rob us of much of our production. So it was best to push back the grubs' growth cycle. It would result in a few deaths, probably, and some developmental issues, but everything was always re-ordered after Festival.

The other hives migrated to us in orderly fashion, in waves. They brought their own mineralite with them, but also gifts for our Hive's Sire and mates. The other Sires delivered these gifts personally, and their mates offered gifts of rare mineralite for the Hesk and Upper Rask.

I would go into more detail about the preparations, but they involve all manner of things for which there is no good translation or common understanding. For example, we did not have music, but rather a sort of vibrational frequency from a pneumonic organ which activated certain ganglion and stimulated our ability to connect with one another, beyond what access there was between two individuals. At Festival we programmed for total unification. The side effect was a certain lack of total memory at all events, which was accounted for by a few specially-guarded individuals whose sole job was to retain all things, but most of us would remember only vast swells of emotion, each other's emotions, collective thoughts and the simpler declarations presented. When the celebration started in full, after the sleep cycle, we would be almost almost like a collective.

The Guardians came late in that cycle. We had all mobilized at the Central Spire, where the ruling class of Upper Rask and Hesk lived and operated and communed with other Hives. The Guardians were larger than our tallest Central Spires, and entire sections of the ground-level had been cleared of older spires and other obstacles centuries ago to allow them room to stand and move.

Five of the Lords came. Usually it was more, but the event was still a spectacular upheaval of normal routine. The Sires presented the Hives to them; they did this in the language of clicks that had been determined by both parties so long ago. We also clicked at various points, to affirmation our unification. The promises of long ago were recited, re-established and then echoed by all. The Guardians were welcomed and clicked out their acceptance of our hospitality. Then we were, in essence, dismissed while the leaders of all Hives conferred with the Guardians at the High Spire several [kilometers] from our current location. We were free to celebrate and eat in the meantime, and dance or sing if we wanted, though this as not to be the main celebration. Mostly during this time the various remaining Hesk and Rask were expected to fellowship. This brought the Hives together, no matter what had occurred in between Festivals.

That was how I came to meet my future mate on the lowest level, where many were bathing in the heat and communicating in a huge buzz of vibrations and empathic frequencies. She was from Hive Seven, a little larger than myself, with very guarded brainwaves. I felt nothing from her; no stray thoughts or emotions. She was eating the mineralite that was being passed around. I'd never associated with her before, indeed had no memory of her at all, and so approached her and hailed in a frequency that wouldn't be too intrusive, _I am the current Dmr 21. Your designation?_

_Fey 03_, she responded back. She was not rude; Eian were incapable of rudeness unless it came from over-expression, so naturally I didn't consider her restraint to be offensive.

_II work at this Hive_, I continued. _Currently, I work out of Base Spire Eleven. I am at Negative Fifteen Hundred_ siik.

She responded,_ I am from Hive Seven's Base Spire Thirteen. I am currently at three-hundred-thirteen _siik.

I trilled a general, somewhat meaningless "congratulations."_ You are almost even, then,_ I said. _Almost a Median; free._

She flicked her wings a little_. Yes; but then, I am _much_ older than you-unless you are a very poor worker, that is. I have had to work a long time to return my debt to the Hive_. She paused and said, _Though, honestly, I have had to work longer than most. Due to my size, I initially consumed more mineralite than most grubs consume, so my debt to Hive Seven was greater than most debts. It is a record; one of the top hundred highest debts of our hive, in fact._

_That is incredible_! I said. Then I realized what I'd said and added quickly, _What_ _I mean is, that I admire your work this and your loyalty to your hive. I could not imagine working any longer than necessary. How did you keep motivated?_

She quivered a bit, bristling at me, though I sensed no derisiveness._ I had no choice but to work, of course._

_Oh, yes; the Imperators._

_Yes. Hive Seven has the best._

_I have heard that, actually, from others during Festivals, but they never say why._

She bristled her wings again._ Well, if you do not work hard in the moment, they will disable you with a very concentrated sting to the base of your helm. This will incapacitate you for several hours, putting you in a sort of paralyzed trance. When you come back to your senses, your work load has piled up in your absence. The debt cancellation has been put behind schedule. So in Hive Seven we work until we drop. Many of us even sacrifice our mineralite in the short term to continue production. This does not help our debt, however; the mineralite is simply saved for the next feeding._

_You come from a very thrifty hive, then,_ I said_. If we refuse to eat it goes to canceling part of our debt. Not much, of course, but some choose the practice._

While we talked we continued to eat, for our mouthparts typically do little communication, unlike in the very ancient days when we were a less modern species. (You can imagine our surpass to hear the Guardians speak with mouths or some equivalent as their language.)

We would have talked more but around this time the Prison spire was being accessed, and everyone wanted to be there for that. It meant that the Guardians would be returning relatively soon, and more importantly, they would begin pardons, judgements, and other officiations. There would be a few executions, which was always unheard of in our culture, but which the Guardians had imposed a few centuries ago after a strange string of deviant behavior had begun occurring in certain colonies. Normally such things were taken care of by reprogramming but the Guardians believed in stricter methods, even stricter than what our colony overseers could comprehend. But Guardians knew best when it came to managing society.

And of course, I had been born under the executions and had no memory of anything different.

I went to the Prison Spire with Fey 03 and waited for the Guardians to return. After the Prison spire had been cleansed of almost half its inmates (admittedly, there was never more than ten or twenty at any given time) we would then retire for the sleep cycle. I had already decided I wanted to sleep near to Fey 03, to protect her from any other Base Rask who might be using this time to look for a future mate. Of course, Base Rask could pretend to make their choice of a mate, and as Medians they could offer their preference to the Hesk Mating Council, but all decisions were decided by the council and no one else. But I didn't want to add any complications by allowing competition.

If this seems rash to you, choosing a mate within such a short time, it wasn't for the Eian. Mating was never a very sentimental affair. I saw quite clearly that she was a strong, dedicated worker who came from a strong Hive. She also was larger than most. And she would be at the Median soon in her Hive. It was better to make my claim now, and give it to her before the end of the Festival, so she could consider it. When she was free, she would already have my proposal and not another's. And since she was obviously good at waiting, she might air for me. Then I would have a mate who had already learned how to acclimate to freedom and could assist me. Freedom could be a scary thing for a new Median Rask.

Of course, this was assuming that I wasn't going to be freed early by the visiting Guardian council. If that were the case, I would be able to wait for _her_, and not for a very long time, either. And if I was freed first, she would migrate to my hive; I could stay in my home colony.

While we waiting for the Guardians to return, I sent her a more empathic message: _We should consider being mates, since we are getting along so well._

_You are at Negative fifteen hundred_! she said, as if this meant anything when all Base Rask are the same until they break even.

I didn't say this, though. I just said, _So_? _I think you would make a good mate._

_Your thoughts mean little_, she returned.

But she was speaking to me in empathy, without any hums or trills, so I knew she was considering it.

And that's when the Guardians came back.


End file.
